Don't Cry for Me Marshall
by tilleygirl
Summary: Mary's journey of recovery from hospital back to work.
1. Chapter 1 Homecoming

Chapter One – Homecoming

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**Post-hospital Week One**

Mary slowly moved from her bedroom into the kitchen. She was indescribably happy to be home and away from the horror of the hospital. Poking and prodding every ten minutes, needles in her arm, noises from the hallway, beeps from machines, hovering from her visitors. Hospital food. The tension was palpable from everyone, even Marshall. Now she had a few blessed moments to herself. Raph had gone to work and Brandi had class. She peered around the corner. No sign of Jinx.

Slowly reaching for the coffee pot, she was oddly touched to find someone had actually made coffee. That was unusual. She frowned and wondered if Marshall had been here. He had said he would stop by before going into work. She felt a slight pang at the thought she may have missed him. Inhaling the strong aroma of the black liquid, she shuffled out to the patio and sank gratefully down into a chair. The sun felt warm on her weary body. She probably should put some sunscreen on, but couldn't be bothered to go back inside to get it. After all those weeks in the hospital, she could use a little vitamin D.

Sipping at her coffee, she heard her stomach rumble. She wondered if there was any food at all in the house. Raph had probably kept the fridge stocked. He was fairly good about stuff like that. As she sat drowsing in the full morning sunlight, she heard the little boy next door sobbing, then the closing of the door as his mother drew him inside. The little boy's emotional outburst brought back a memory of the night she woke up in the hospital to the gut wrenching sounds of Marshall's sobbing. It would have been the second night after she came out of the coma. She had carefully opened one eye, and took him in, sitting slumped over the railing on her bed, his head in his hands, shoulders shaking, desperately trying to shove the sobs back down his throat, but utterly failing. He had been subdued, but still smiling and joking when he had visited earlier in the day.

The sight of Marshall crying for her, more than anything she had been told by the doctors, imparted to her how badly she was injured. Exhaustion was etched on his face; worry lines creased his forehead, even his posture was slumped, as if the effort to hold himself erect would take more energy than he had left. She had noted these things earlier in the day. By evening the pure rush of relief had faded and all the pent up emotions could not be held in any longer.

She startled awake as the smell of cinnamon wafted under her nose. Opening her eyes, she found a familiar hand attached to the cinnamon roll in front of her. Smiling as she looked up, she saw Marshall's alert gaze watching her closely. She reached out and snatched the roll, murmured a quick thanks and took a big bite.

Marshall sat down beside her and pulled another roll out of the bag he carried. They ate in companionable silence. Mary licked her fingers when she finished and looked directly at him.

"Bless you. Nobody else thought to feed me and I was actually feeling hungry this morning." Her partner's eyes darkened a brief moment, then cleared.

"Jinx was just getting up. She's fixing you breakfast." Mary suppressed a slight shudder. Cooking wasn't her mother's strong point, but at least she was making an effort. She nodded. "She was standing in front of the stove. I think trying to figure out how to turn it on." He grinned at her grimace, then sobered as he leaned closer to her.

Marshall's lean fingers covered her hand. "How are you feeling? And don't give me any BS. I know when you're lying." He kept his gaze on her, smoothly appraising her from head to toe. He didn't like the way she seemed to be unnaturally holding her body erect. She had dark circles around her eyes and she was very thin; her collarbone was prominently visible through her top. He thought he would probably be able to feel her ribs if he put his hand on her torso.

Mary considered a moment, evaluating all her body parts. "My abdomen hurts any time I move. I have to hold a pillow in front of me if I laugh or cough. My back aches, too much lying around I think. My head feels fuzzy, from the pain meds. I want to go off them, don't worry," she said at the look on his face, "I won't, but I want to see if I can ratchet the dosage down or get on something different. I can't think clearly."

"All you need to think about is getting better," Marshall said, a touch of steel behind the words.

"And just what in the history of our relationship makes you think that is going to happen?" she shot back at him. "I am not going to lie around here for God knows how many weeks doing nothing."

"If you push yourself too hard, too fast, you will take even longer before you can come back to work."

She looked at him with pleading in her eyes. "You've got to get me something to do Marshall. I'll go stark raving mad."

Marshall stood up and bent down to kiss her cheek, grateful that Mary was unaware of just how many times he had done that while she was in the hospital. That she was unaware of just how much comfort he derived from the brief contact. Mary looked up in surprise.

"I'll see if I can get you some paperwork to do." His eyebrows shot up as she opened her mouth to protest. "What, you think you are going to be going on witness visits?" Mary grimly acknowledged his point.

"Fine, but don't try to sneak any of your paperwork in with mine."

"Like I'd let you anywhere near my paperwork." He squeezed her hand and turned to leave. Jinx was standing by the door with a tray in her hands. She had witnessed the whole little scene and wondered, not for the first time, if there was something going on between her daughter and her partner. The tall man's reactions at the hospital were hard to miss and Jinx was grateful Raph had been so deep in shock that he hadn't seemed to notice.

"Let me get that for you," he offered as Jinx continued to stand in the doorway. The man was unfailingly polite, she thought as she surrendered the tray. He set it down on the table next to Mary, smiled at her again and then took his leave.

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**Post -hospital Week Two**

Raph arrived home with two grocery bags in his arms. He was pleased to see Mary with a bit more color in her face, resting on the couch. She was going over some paperwork. He frowned. Marshall had dropped some files off for her earlier in the week. Raph didn't like it, but Mary insisted she needed something to do and it was only paperwork.

He set the groceries down and went in to kiss her. Mary turned her face up and smiled at him. Oddly enough, the files she was working on seemed to improve her mood.

"How many for supper tonight?" Raph tried to keep the note of irritation from his voice. He held his breath, waiting for her answer.

"Just you and me and Mom. Brandi is at Peter's and Marshall is working late." Raph let out his breath in relief. He liked Mary's partner and appreciated the fact that he kept such a close eye on her, but seriously; the guy was at the house all the time. There had only been a couple times since Mary came home that he hadn't eaten supper with them. Raph had held his tongue because Marshall seemed to have a calming effect on Mary. He rolled his shoulders, trying to loosen the tension. He was going to have to think about that; just why did Marshall calm Mary, when her own fiancé seemed to cause her agitation. He wondered briefly when he might be able to move off the couch and back into Mary's bed.

Mary refused to let him attend her doctors' appointments with her. He didn't know what was happening with her health apart from the little she told him. She seemed to be moving more fluidly, although obviously still experiencing discomfort. She almost came apart when he had stuck his head into the bathroom when she was in the shower last week. It's not like he had never seen her naked. He had just wanted to be sure she was alright...

Raph quickly got supper started and poured himself a beer. He considered Marshall's seeming constant presence as he sautéed onions. The man was her partner. He got that. He got that Marshall felt guilty because he wasn't with Mary when she was shot. He got that partners have a special bond; they have to as they put their lives in each others' hands. But he had a nagging tickle at the back of his mind, that there was something more. He wondered if Marshall had a girlfriend. Mary never talked about him. She referenced him, she didn't talk about him. He would feel a lot better if Marshall had his own girl. He would ask him the next time he saw him.

Raph set the table as he thought about walking into Mary's hospital room one day to find her silently holding hands with Marshall. They weren't talking, weren't even looking at each other. Marshall was reading a file of some sort. Mary was flipping through the TV channels. But they kept a solid grip on each other. He had felt a flare of jealousy. Mary never just held hands with him. Marshall had very casually released her hand and gotten up to greet Raph. Yes, he thought, I must find out if there is a girlfriend.

As he put together a salad, his mind roved back to his sleeping arrangements. He had done some research on abdominal injuries, and he knew it would be awhile before they could have sex again, but he was getting antsy about sleeping away from her. He really wanted to be near her. It was beginning to feel like Mary didn't want him with her.

Raph walked to the living room to let Mary know supper was ready and found her in animated conversation with someone on the phone. _Marshall. _The man managed to be here even when he wasn't. Mary snapped the phone shut and her smile faded as she looked up at Raph. They ate largely in silence. Mary hadn't gotten her appetite back and eating was becoming a chore. It was all good, but she really had to work on getting a few bites of each item down. The doctor had been quite stern when she'd seen him this week. She had to start eating better and gaining back some of the weight she had lost.

Jinx helped Raph with the dishes and Mary went to her room and carefully shut the door. She hoped her fiance would take the hint. She laid down and was asleep before she got the covers pulled up. Raph opened the door a short time later and watched her sleeping. It worried him that she had so little energy. She was not making it more than three or four hours without falling asleep. He would have to insist on going to the next doctors' appointment with her. He quietly pulled the comforter up over her and resignedly headed back out to the couch in the living room.


	2. Chapter 2 Recovering

Many thanks to Bujyo for doing a beta read of this story. I forgot to add this note to Chapter 1 - mea culpa!

* * *

Chapter Two – Recovering

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**Post - hospital Week Three**

Jinx sat by the pool watching Mary swim slow laps. It was one form of exercise that didn't cause her daughter pain. Marshall had silently joined her at the table. He was becoming a fixture at their morning ritual, stopping by every day before going in to work. She glanced at him covertly; saw the hunger in his eyes as he tracked the lithe form through the water. This could get messy. Marshall was a sweet man and good for Mary in a number of ways, but Mary was engaged to Raphael. Both sets of eyes were on her as she flipped and turned to swim another length. Mary wore a modestly cut one piece suit. Jinx sighed. Her poor Mary. She would never be able to wear a two piece suit again, not with the kind of scar she would end up with.

Turning her eyes back to Marshall, she considered him and his daily appearances to check on Mary. Mary certainly seemed to look forward to his arrival. She waved him into a seat.

"She's doing very well," the older woman offered. "The doctor cleared her to start swimming and maybe she'll get to start driving again in a few weeks."

Marshall nodded, his eyes not wavering from the red line her suit cut through the pool. Jinx smiled. She remembered men looking at her like that. Sometimes they still did. She took a sip of coffee, thinking about Marshall's gradually increasing presence in their lives. Mary had barely mentioned him for the first few years of their partnership. Jinx vaguely recalled her telling her she had been assigned a new partner; a geeky beanpole with a mouth that never shut, as Jinx remembered Mary's description. She thought about it a moment. Mary didn't really start talking about him until after Jinx moved to New Mexico. And now...now he was here all the time.

Mary finished her last lap and moved towards the steps to get out of the pool. She was perturbed that she couldn't pull herself out of the pool like a normal person, but her stomach muscles just weren't there yet. She reached for her towel and started to rub her hair, turning as she did so and catching sight of Marshall. She paused, slightly flustered that Marshall was seeing her in her suit. She had lost weight while in the hospital and she knew she looked too thin. She had always been proud of her body. For the first time that she could remember, she felt self-conscious about a man looking at her. Even if that man was just Marshall.

He ran a critical eye over her, taking advantage of the opportunity to get a good look at her. She was thin, too thin. Two weeks with a feeding tube had taken its toll. The curves were still there, but her bones were too prominent. After a quick assessment, his eyes roved back and lingered on those curves. He couldn't help himself. He shifted slightly as his body started to react and turned to grab the coffee carafe and poured a cup.

Jinx watched the silent body language of the two and heaved an internal sigh. _Oh Mary. What are you doing?_ Following her heart maybe. Jinx doubted Mary was even aware of the depth of her feelings for Marshall. She remembered Mary sobbing in her arms when Marshall had been shot. Sobbing like she hadn't since she was a little girl. Since James left. It was one of the few times Jinx had been able to fulfill her responsibility as a mother, to hold her little girl as she cried, to give the comfort that can only come from a mother. She wondered if Marshall knew she had cried for him.

She tilted her head and looked up at Marshall as he watched Mary walk towards him, wrapping her towel around herself. She didn't miss the quick look of disappointment that flitted across his face. Jinx may have moved through much of her life in an alcoholic haze, but one thing she did know was the look of a man in love. And she doubted Mary realized Marshall was in love with her. She'd be running away if she did.

Jinx thought about the morning she had arrived very early at the hospital. She had silently entered her room to find Marshall asleep, slumped forward from the chair beside the bed. Mary was lying on her side and Marshall's head was on his crossed arms, in the half circle created by her body. _Protected by Mary. _He was gripping her hand in his sleep. Jinx had watched them a few minutes, until one of the nurses entered.

"He's so sweet," the nurse had murmured. "He spends every night with her. She does much better when he is here." Jinx had watched as the nurse moved over to check the monitors and take Mary's vitals. Marshall had groggily sat up and reached over to touch Mary's face before becoming aware that Jinx was there.

Marshall pulled a chair out for Mary and gently led her to it. She bristled slightly at his hovering. He handed her the cup of coffee. She pushed him away.

"Jesus Marshall, stop hovering like an old woman. I'm not going to fall over."

Mary didn't see the small smile that skipped across his face, but Jinx did. _He did that on purpose. He's trying to get the fire back in her. He knows exactly what will push her buttons. _And she had a sobering thought – would Raphael know what would push her buttons?

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**Post hospital Week Four**

Brandi sank back into the couch and snuggled under Peter's arm. She lazily watched Mary and Marshal sitting on the love seat across from them. Marshall was droning on about something Brandi couldn't begin to understand. Mary had been agitated and angry over something earlier in the evening. _Probably another fight with Chico. _Brandi didn't understand why he was still relegated to the couch, but she suspected the fight had to do with that. Chico wanted to sleep in Mary's bed again and Mary didn't want him there. Maybe her stomach still hurt her. Chico did like to snuggle and that could earn you a black eye with Mary. If he put his arms around her and hurt her, Brandi didn't know what Mary would do. But still, you couldn't freeze a guy out forever.

She had calmed down when Marshall arrived. She usually did. Raph was the one who was starting to get agitated now when Marshall arrived. Brandi knew there had been words about how much time Marshall was spending with them. There had repeated refrains of 'He's my partner.' Like that was supposed to explain it all. Raph was out tonight, playing ball with some friends.

Marshall was chuckling at one of Mary's rude comments. It struck Brandi for the first time that he was actually a rather nice looking man. Once you got past the geek. She tilted her head. He could actually be rather hot, if someone dressed him properly, got him out of the western gear, and did something with his hair. On cue, Mary reached over and mussed his hair. Marshall drew back protesting, but had a nice smile on his face. Yes, Brandi thought, watching the sparkle in his eyes as he chuckled, he was not bad looking at all.

"Ow!" Brandi looked at Peter in surprise. "What'd you pinch me for?" Peter looked at her knowingly.

"Wanted to bring your eyes off your sister's partner and back to me," he said in a low voice.

"You jealous?" she questioned with a smile. "I'm just happy to see Mary happy."

Brandi thought back to the day she had walked into Mary's room at the hospital and heard her laughter. It was the first time she'd heard her laugh since waking up. She had come through the open door and then hesitated as she saw the look on Mary's face as she smiled up at Marshall. It was a look Brandi had never seen her give Raph. It was natural, unforced, genuine.

Marshall was holding her hand and he brought it up to his lips, turned it and pressed a kiss into the palm. _God that's hot. Does Mary even realize how hot that is? _Marshall had looked up and seen Brandi hesitating in the doorway and waved her in.

"You've got another visitor and I have to get back to work. I'll see you tomorrow, okay Sunshine?"

"I'll be sticking something where the sun don't shine, if they don't spring me out of here soon," she had grumbled, but Brandi noticed she still had her hand clasped with his.

Brandi's look turned assessing as it struck her how much more relaxed Mary was with Marshall than she was with Raph. Marshall was still droning on, but Mary was ignoring him. It occurred to her that she hadn't seen Mary's engagement ring since she got home. Were they still engaged? It would be like Mary not to say anything if they weren't. Or had the ring been lost when she'd been shot? Maybe one of those gang guys had taken it.

Marshall glanced up at the clock, saw it was 9:00 and reluctantly rose to go home. He leaned down and whispered something in her ear, something that made her blush, said good night to Brandi and Peter and left. Brandi watched him go, silently logging the fact that he had a nice ass too, then turned her attention back to Mary.

"So, what did he say to you?"

Mary affected ignorance. "What are you talking about?" She became intently interested in her fingernails.

"Marshall, when he whispered in your ear. What did he say?"

"Well, probably if he had wanted you to know, he would have said it out loud." Mary carefully levered herself up from the love seat and headed into the kitchen.

Wow. Something that made Mary blush and she wasn't willing to share. Brandi was pretty damn sure that Chico would be out on the couch again tonight.


	3. Chapter 3 Acknowledging

Chapter Three – Acknowledging

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**Post-hospital Week Five**

Mary sat in Shelly Finkel's office, fidgeting with the bottom button on her shirt. She took quick glances around the office, carefully avoiding looking at Shelly. This was the last place in the world she wanted to be. She had come to hate these sessions. Alright, she had started off hating these sessions and it had just gone downhill from there. She pressed her lips together. They wouldn't let her go back to work without a release from this woman though.

In previous sessions, they had already been through every excruciating moment of the shooting, her recovery time in the hospital and her difficulties in adjusting to life at home with her family. They had discussed her feelings about Raph, her reluctance to move forward with her marriage plans. Now Shelly was displaying an alarming interest in her relationship with Marshall.

She had asked about the first conversation Mary had with him upon waking up in the hospital. Mary closed her eyes. **No**. She wouldn't. Not with this woman. Not with anyone. That was a moment for her and Marshall alone. She had constantly been scanning the room for him after she first opened her eyes. She had been so weak, she couldn't even speak. Jinx, Brandi, Raph...hell ,even Stan had been there at one time or another, all fawning over her, but no Marshall. Tears of frustration had pricked at her eyes, she had wanted to see him so bad. Why wasn't he there? She wasn't sure how long it had been, but she had opened her eyes to feel him holding her hand, looking down at her with an expression she would never forget. An exquisite mixture of terror, relief, guilt, joy, exhaustion, and love. She had felt the tears leaking down the side of her face at the sight of him.

He had brought his lips down to her ear and whispered, "You zigged when you should have zagged." It was so Marshall, the perfect thing to say to her.

"That makes you angry, me asking about Marshall. Why is that?" Shelly's low pitched voice brought Mary back to the office. The psychologist was watching her closely. The woman was positively stiff, her hands clenched in fists, the tendons of her neck standing out, her jaw taut. Every fiber of her being was screaming BACK OFF. Whatever Marshall had said to her, it was important to Mary. Shelly had to find a way of bringing Mary to realize just how strong her feelings were for him. The unhappy woman sitting in front of her was probably the only person in the entire state who couldn't see that.

Mary closed her eyes. She hated this, hated every single second of it; having to lay her feelings out in the open for this woman to dissect. She opened her eyes and narrowed them at the shrink. This woman who had an interest in Marshall herself.

Shelly saw the look and recognized it for what it was. She chastised herself silently. She should have never openly shown an interest in Mary's partner. Even though they had never gone beyond a few coffee dates, it was creating trust issues for her now. Mary would never willingly disclose any of her feelings for Marshall to Shelly.

"What Marshall and I have is between us and not relevant to the situation." The words were ground out and meant to close the line of inquiry.

Shelly's soft brown eyes looked at her calmly. "You're kidding me, right?" She glanced down at her notes. "Are you aware that you have mentioned Marshall's name fourteen times today? And I didn't count you telling me Marshall dropped you off. You talk about him more than you do your fiancé. He is completely relevant to the situation because he is relevant to you."

Mary stared at her, vainly trying to cloak her heart again in the thin protective shroud she kept pinned around it. What she had with Marshall ... that was private, precious; nobody could share in that. She wouldn't share it with anybody. She set her jaw and crossed her arms.

Shelly took in the defiant, protective stance and sighed. She wouldn't get much further with her today. She had waited quite awhile before bringing Marshall up in their sessions. Mary was fiercely protective of the relationship and the man. It was the one thing that provided some stability to her life. She wondered if Mary was even aware that she was in love with him.

"Okay. I'll drop it for now. But think about this. The single most intense relationship you have is with Marshall. He supports you emotionally. You let him because you think he is safe. He won't hurt you. He won't leave you. You have probably extracted a promise from him to that effect. That constitutes a commitment. On both sides. We will have to talk about him before I can release you. How you feel about him and interact with him affects your job performance. It is relevant." She stood up signaling the end of the session. Mary was up and out the door before Shelly had her chair pushed back. Shelly smiled. The woman moved pretty quickly when properly motivated, even for someone without a stomach injury.

Marshall was pacing anxiously in the waiting room. A relieved smile broke across his face when he saw her. He was even pleased to see the steam coming out of her ears. She pushed past him, not even acknowledging him. Marshall glanced over at Shelly standing in the door to her office and smiled.

She returned the smile. Poor, clueless schmuck. Did he have any idea of the train wreck that was heading his way? Shelly knew Marshall would think it would be a great thing if Mary could acknowledge her feelings for him. The reality was, when Mary was forced to make that acknowledgment she was going to fall apart.

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**Post -hospital Week Six**

Stan inspected Mary with careful eyes. She had come into the office to pick up her re-instatement paperwork. Once she got the clearance from Shelly, she could start back on light duty work. Her color was good and she was moving more easily than the last time he had seen her ten days ago. She was still a bit gaunt, but Marshall had told him her appetite was returning.

Mary was animated, her excitement about just being in the office palpable. Eleanor brought her a cup of coffee and steered her into a chair. If Shelly released her after this weeks' appointment, she could start back on Monday. She smiled up in gratitude at Marshall when he handed her the necessary paperwork, her fingers brushing against his as she took the forms.

Stan watched them leave, Marshall with his hand lightly under her elbow, a support just in case she needed it. He closed his eyes. He was going to have to talk to him. Stan had his suspicions regarding Marshall's feelings towards his partner well before the shooting, and what he had seen since then only confirmed those thoughts.

That day in the hospital...he had never seen Marshall fall apart like that. The open, raw emotions couldn't be contained. The fear, the grief, the self-recrimination, the dreams lost. This was a man who was deeply in love. On the surface, he wouldn't give much credence to Marshall's chances, but he had seen the way Mary's eyes searched for him when she would wake up, saw the way her body would relax when Marshall would be in the hospital room. Maybe he did have a chance.

When Marshall returned from taking Mary home, Stan stuck his head out of his office. "Inspector, a word please." He stepped into his office and Stan nodded at him to close the door. He complied, his smile fading. Stan stood and ran his hand over his head, uncertain how to start this conversation.

"You know I don't like to get involved in my inspector's private lives," he began. Marshall's quick mind caught up to him immediately. He straightened up and his eyes narrowed.

"Then don't," Marshall said shortly. Stan looked at him with something approaching sympathy

"Marshall, I held you sobbing in my arms at the hospital that day. You spent every night for three weeks at the hospital, except the one night I made you go on a witness transfer. You see her every day after work. You talk to her multiple times a day. You're in love with her and that causes me a problem."

Marshall was silent. What could he say? It was true.

"And this qualifies as your business how?" he asked finally.

Stan shoved his hands into his pockets. "I need to know that if the situation presented itself, and a choice had to be made between Mary and a scumbag witness, you would choose to protect the witness at the cost of Mary." He held his hand up as Marshall opened his mouth. "You are excellent at what you do Marshall. I know how seriously you take your commitment to the witness. But I don't feel confident that your feelings for Mary wouldn't supersede that commitment."

He moved over to place a hand on Marshall's shoulder. "I know what it is to be in love with someone I couldn't have. Now, I don't know exactly what your..." he hesitated, groping for the right word, "status, is with Mary..."

Marshall cut him off. "We aren't sleeping together, we've never slept together. She's engaged to another man, so we won't be sleeping together in the future." His words were tinged with bitterness. "And don't worry about my witnesses. I will do what is necessary. Are we done?" He was already halfway to the door.

"Raph is the wrong man for her," Stan said, halting Marshall in his rush to escape. "He's a good guy, but Mary's not comfortable with him. Even I could see that during my visits to her house."

"She's agreed to marry him Stan." Marshall didn't turn around, but the stiffness in his back was telling,

"True, true," Stan said, glanced down at his shoes, "But engagements can be broken. Sometimes should be."

Marshall finally turned around to look at his boss. Stan saw a flicker of something in his eyes. "She's made a promise. She won't break it." He left the office, defeat written in his slumped shoulders and shuffling gait.


	4. Chapter 4 Adjusting

Chapter Four – Adjusting

*****

**Post-hospital Week Seven**

It had been the third or fourth day after she returned to work. Mary was becoming increasingly frustrated by her body's betrayal. She was so easily fatigued, she couldn't get through a full day in the office, even on desk duty. By three in the afternoon she was ready to pack it in. And in reality she should have left at noon. She knew that, but stubbornly kept on working. Marshall was keeping a close eye on her and saw her fading fast. He had grabbed the files for his new witness and walked over to Mary' s desk. Gently grasping her elbow, he pulled her to her feet.

"Come on, let's go to my place. We can continue to cover the file, but you can get some rest. Please Mary," he said, as she opened her mouth to protest, "do this for me. I can't concentrate if I'm worrying about you passing out." He was a bit alarmed by how quickly Mary submitted to his suggestion. The irritation was there, but she just couldn't muster up the usual fire behind it.

It had been too soon. She should still be on leave, but after ten weeks Mary was going stir crazy. Upon obtaining a release to return to light duty work, no opinion of Marshall's was going to keep her home. She was irritated that she couldn't go out in the field, but was at least being reasonable on that front. She would have to re-qualify with her weapon and she grudgingly admitted she wouldn't be able to protect her witnesses or Marshall at this point.

Mary had kept her eyes open with great effort, long enough to eat Marshall's excellently prepared meal, complete with salad and veg. After finishing off dessert, she gave in to her heavy eyelids' insistent pulling and leaned against Marshall. She was asleep within minutes.

Marshall had ensconced her on his couch and spread the file out on the coffee table. After completing their review of the material on the new witness, he had started supper and brought her some ibuprofen to take. Mary lasted through supper but by 7:00 pm was asleep on his shoulder. He now sat with his arm lightly around her, the TV volume low, Mary's slightly heavy breathing steady and regular.

Marshall thought about that first day she had been awake in the hospital. He had cycled in and out of the room throughout the day, glancing in the door to see if she was awake or sleeping. He had popped in late in the afternoon, and standing by the door, had asked Jinx and Raph if they needed anything. Mary had opened her eyes and Marshall had stilled, unable to move from the door. He had only had a few precious minutes with her that morning. He watched as she took in Raph and smiled weakly at him. Jinx was hovering, squeezing her hand. Mary eyes were scanning the room. It was difficult for her to talk yet, so she wasn't trying. Marshall's sharp eyes noted the heart rate on the monitor was increasing. Mary looked around again and spotted him by the doorway. She locked her gaze with his. Marshall felt a surge of joy; she had been looking for him. And her heartbeat had gone back down where it belonged.

Marshall was startled awake by the low buzzing of his phone. He grabbed the phone off the coffee table and answered before the second buzz, quickly glancing at Mary to make sure she hadn't been woken.

"Marshall," he answered softly.

"Hey Marshall," said Brandi, "is Mary with you? I'm not getting an answer on her phone." He glanced at his watch and winced. Eight o'clock. Mary's family would be worried.

"Yes, she's here. Sorry, we were going over some work files. I'll get her home right away."

"Is she sleeping?" Brandi asked. "She falls asleep at the drop of a hat, while she's eating, while she's talking. It's like she can't get enough energy to get her through the day." Marshall looked fondly at Mary, her head on his shoulder

"Yeah, she's sleeping."

"Well, I hate to have you wake her up, but Raph is going nuts and he is her fiancé. She should be with him." Marshall felt a wave of pain at those casually uttered words and answered more curtly than usual.

"I am aware of that," he said shortly. "I'll bring her home straight away."

"Oh God, Marshall," Brandi said, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel bad. It's just..." she trailed off and sucked in a sharp breath. "Jeez, you really care about her don't you? I mean more than partners."

Marshall closed his eyes. Of all the times for Brandi to get perceptive, she picks now? He could literally hear the tumblers falling into place in her head. "That's why you spent so much time at the hospital, why you came over every night once she got home. Oh, Marshall, I'm so sorry. This must be killing you." Tact was not Brandi's middle name, but she got the bottom line right.

"I can't talk about this now. We'll be there shortly." He clicked the phone shut. He scrubbed his face with his hand and looked down at Mary. She still looked pale. She was pushing herself too hard and was not allowing herself the time she needed to heal. He knew the family situation was not helping and that she sought refuge at his house sometimes. But Brandi was right. She should be with Raph.

He gently tapped her cheek with a sigh, catching her hands in a loose hold in case she came awake swinging.

"Time to go home, Sleeping Beauty," he murmured in her ear. Mary reluctantly opened her eyes and stared at him, taking just a moment too long to place her location. Marshall eyes reflected his concern. "Hey, you okay?"

Mary sat up, trying to clear her head of the weird dream she'd been having. It involved Marshall and Raph as Siamese twins and someone whom she very much feared was King Solomon. She didn't even want to think about the psychological significance of that. She nodded slowly.

"Brandi called. They're worried. We need to get you home." Home. Mary grimaced. _Home. Raph. Brandi. Mom. Can't I stay here with you?_

Marshall read the plea in her eyes and sadly shook his head. "You need to go home," he said softly.

"I've been making Raph sleep on the couch_," _she said abruptly. Marshall had started to stand up, but sank back down on the couch and looked at her, trying to perceive what was behind the statement. "He was okay about it at first, but he's starting to push now." Mary's eyes started to brim with tears. "I don't want him in my bed. It's too claustrophobic. He's always wanting to hold me."

Marshall groped for the right thing to say, the right way to handle this. "Are you still having pain in your abdomen?" he asked quietly. Mary shook her head.

"Only if I overdo it or try to lift something too heavy. But I don't want his arms around me." She was focused on the coffee table. Marshall shifted uncomfortably as he thought about his arm around her shoulders earlier.

"Does it make you feel constricted? Or are you afraid he is going to push for ...more?" Mary shrugged. He carefully kept his mind blank. Marshall knew she hadn't been released for sex yet. Raph had to know that too. There was something else going on.

"I'm afraid of what will happen when he does ask for sex." Marshall was perplexed. Mary would have no problem telling anyone she didn't want sex. She was twisting the hem of her top, eyes averted from Marshall. "I don't want him to see me." Her voice had dropped to a whisper. He tried to make his brain put the missing piece in the puzzle. His gaze sharpened as he realized what was bothering her.

"Raphael hasn't seen your scar yet?" She shook her head. God bless him, he always understood what she was trying to say.

"No one has besides my doctor." The statement hung there between them. Marshall's heart was breaking. Mary thought this scar would make her undesirable.

"Can I see it?" Uncertain of her response, he closely watched her face, saw the struggle. She wanted to show him, he realized. She wanted to be reassured it wasn't off putting. But it was an intimate thing. Finally she nodded.

Marshall stood up and gestured for her to lie down. He sat down on the edge of the couch and waited while she slowly reached for the hem of her top and pulled it up, revealing the long, angry red scar that split her abdomen. Unbeknownst to Mary, Marshall had actually seen the wound while she still had staples in. It looked far better now than it had earlier. But she would always have a visible scar.

He reached out a trembling finger and gingerly traced the length of it, noting the tightening of Mary's abdominal muscles when he touched her. He traced back the reverse direction and on an impulse, bent down and placed a warm gentle kiss on her belly.

"I think you're beautiful," he said in a husky voice. "Don't you dare think otherwise." He looked at her, something sparking deep in his eyes.

Mary felt an electric jolt when his lips touched her bare skin, caressed her scar; that physical symbol of her latest trauma. It was too intimate. Raph should be the one kissing her like this. Her head dropped and she let her hair sweep across her cheek, covering the stain of pink that flushed her face.

The scar would bother Raph. She knew it would. It would be a constant reminder of the danger of her job, of how close she came to dying. Everytime she lay under him it would be there, a barrier between them. She became aware of Marshall's large palm resting lightly on her abdomen, his warmth seeping through into her belly. Oddly enough, this scar didn't divide her from Marshall, it bound them together. They had a matching set now. She reached up and lightly traced her finger over his chest under his clavicle, just able to feel the ridge of scar tissue under his cotton shirt. She wondered if it bothered him.

Mary brought her eyes up to meet Marshall's. "Does it still hurt you?" she asked curiously.

"Sometimes. If direct pressure is applied. Or it gets hit with something, like with someone's fist." He was watching her carefully, trying to understand what was swirling through her mind. "Would you like to see it?" She looked doubtful, then ducked her head and nodded. Marshall slowly undid two more buttons and pulled the shirt open, exposing his bare chest.

Mary just looked for a moment, realizing she hadn't seen it since he'd gotten out of the hospital. The redness had faded and just a circular ridge of scar tissue remained. Outlining the raised tissue with the tip of her finger, Mary caught her lip with her teeth, feeling dangerously close to tears. As she let her finger memorize the feel of the scar, she drew in her breath as she felt Marshall mirror her movements on her belly. As she traced his scar, he traced hers. She closed her eyes. _I have to put a halt to this._

She regretfully lifted his hand up and pulled her top down. Very carefully sitting up, with Marshall's arm slung around her waist helping her, she cupped his cheek and smiled.

"Take me home Marshall."

* * *

***Post-hospital Week Eight***

Detective Bobby Dershowitz waited patiently for Eleanor to grant him entry to the marshals' office in the Sunshine building. He knew Mary had returned to work, and was anxious to see her in her 'native' environment. She had been rather subdued during his brief visits to her home while she was on medical leave. He hoped the work environment would bring some of her old spark back.

Mary looked up from her desk and flashed Bobby a genuine smile. She knew his quick actions on the night of the shooting contributed to her survival. She had been vaguely aware of his rather ghostlike appearances several times during her hospital stay. He had dropped by the house on a regular basis since her release, just to check on her. Mary was appreciative of his concern, but did wonder exactly what he and Marshall discussed. They inevitably would put their heads together and have a murmured conversation whenever Marshall was there when Bobby came around.

"Looking good, Inspector," he said cheerfully, giving her an appraising look, and then an approving nod. Mary smiled and got up to shake hands.

"I'm feeling pretty good, Bobby, thanks. Now, if they would just give me back my gun and spring me from desk duty, I'd be a happy girl."

"I'm not sure it's a good idea to give you a gun. I don't know. You've got a lot of anger," he chuckled, as Mary screwed up her face at him.

Bobby's quick eye saw the lightening fast look Marshall shot towards Mary at the mention of going back in the field. He noted the slight tightening of his mouth and the corresponding jutting out of Mary's chin. _A point of contention._ Marshall didn't think Mary was ready to return to the field and Mary obviously thought she was. It would be interesting to see how this one played out. Bobby had a suspicion that Marshall may just stand up to Mary on this one.

Part of his job involved evaluating people, reading their body language, understanding what a person really meant, even when the words leaving his or her mouth were saying something different. Bobby had been observing the two marshals since he met them. The relationship was endlessly fascinating to him. It was clear to him, dating back to Mary's kidnapping, that Marshall was in love with his partner. His distress had gone beyond what could be expected for a partner. But it was nothing compared to Marshall's behavior after the shooting. Bobby had been concerned that the lanky inspector may loose his grip on reality. His pain was so visceral, so all consuming, driven by primal fear. Fear of losing the most important thing in the world to him.

Bobby had watched helplessly, unable to provide any measure of comfort. The only thing Marshall wanted from him was the capture of the shooter. So that is what Bobby concentrated on; was still concentrating on. Hoping to alleviate some of his own guilt at not somehow stopping the shooting. Catching the bastard who did this would go a long way towards achieving that goal.

He watched with interest as Marshall unfolded his long limbs from his desk, walked over to Mary's desk, picked up her coffee mug, refilled it and placed it back on her desk. All without a word. The most interesting aspect to him was the fact that Mary allowed it, with no sarcastic comments or rebuffs.

They chatted for a few minutes, then when Stan came out of his office to join them, Bobby gave them all the latest update on the search for the perpetrator. There was nothing new of any substance. Bobby brought copies of new files with him, a sizable stack of paper which he handed to Mary. She stretched out her hand to take it, but was smoothly intercepted by Marshall, taking the files and placing them on Mary's desk. Mary's eyes flashed, but at a small shake of his head and a touch on her elbow with the muttered words, 'not yet', she subsided and sank back down in her chair.

Bobby made his good-byes and left, contemplating the almost territorial feel he was getting from Marshall. But the more interesting aspect was Mary's acquiescence. Something was changing between them; it was subtle, but the detective could definitely feel it. There had been a look that passed between them...

Bobby smiled as he thought about a small incident he had witnessed in the hospital. He had stopped by to see her and she was sleeping. The boyfriend was there, quietly reading a book. They had nodded to each other and Bobby had turned to leave when Mary stirred and opened her eyes. She had quickly scanned the room, taking in the two men, but she kept looking. After a moment an expression of disappointment settled on her features. She tolerated a kiss from Raphael and returned Bobby's greeting. And then an amazing thing happened. Her wan, tired face lit up and became almost beatific. That gaze was directed towards him and, confused, he turned to look behind him. Marshall was standing in the open doorway behind him, his tired face returning that happy smile. Maybe things were looking up for Marshall after all.


	5. Chapter 5 Revealing

Chapter Five – Revealing

***Post-hospital Week Nine***

Mary stood off to the side of the firing range, watching Marshall's lean form assume the proper shooting stance. He took aim at the target and fired rapidly in succession, closely hitting the center of the target with each shot. Mary had always enjoyed watching Marshall shoot, but now, with her enforced passive role, she was studying him far more intently than usual. Without the usual anticipation of her own turn on the range, she was completely focused on him.

The sounds and smells of this place were familiar and comforting to her. She loved hearing the rapid pings of bullets hitting the target, enjoyed watching the tension in the shooters' bodies as they prepared to take aim, even liked the slight smell of sulfur from fired guns. It was a masculine world in which Mary felt completely comfortable.

Marshall stood with his legs spread, both hands firmly wrapped around his weapon. Her eyes slowly traveled over his body, taking in his long legs, slim hips, slender waist, muscular shoulders. Her gaze rested on his hands, the long, slender fingers curled around the butt of the gun, the supple wrists, the sheer power in those hands. Power that was usually cloaked under gentleness. Usually. She had seen what the power in those hands could do. A small smile played around her lips. That power had been on display when they had caught her shooter.

She had seen the gentleness too. She had _felt _the gentleness in those hands. Those hands that had held hers for hours on end while she was in the hospital. Those hands that had circled round her waist, held her upright as she took her first shaky walks down the hospital corridor. Those hands that had fluffed her pillows and arranged her blankets, fluttering in agitation because they couldn't do more. She closed her eyes. Those hands that had closed round her shoulders and held her to him as she sobbed, when she woke night after night from the nightmares. _What else might those hands do?_

She shifted her attention up to his profile, the sharp angular plane of his cheek, his strong nose, the firm set of his mouth, his long neck. He shot three rounds, paused for the next target to come up, shot three more rounds. All six shots were solid. He turned and smiled at Mary.

He was a thing of beauty to watch. His posture was erect and he presented such a tall, clean line. She found it rather hot, the confident, relaxed way he approached the shooting range. Marshall removed his goggles and ear protection and walked over to her. His smooth, lanky gait caused a wave of warmth to spread through her. Or maybe the wave was the result of her remembrance of the other night.

His warm lips on her belly had startled her. His obvious acceptance of the ugliness of her abdomen had warmed her.

Marshal reached her side, his gun already holstered. Mary held her hand out. "Can I hold it?" she asked, a note of pleading in her voice. Marshall's eyebrow shot up.

"I beg your pardon," he said, a sly grin on his face.

"Mind out of the gutter, Marshall. Your gun. Can I hold it? I haven't held a gun in so long." She paused a moment, returned his grin. "Haven't held the other in a long time either."

Marshall drew his gun out of his holster and handed it to her, a faint blush on his cheeks. Mary was starting to sling sexual innuendos again. That was a good sign, but left him feeling slightly uncomfortable. She eagerly grabbed his gun and just held it a moment, feeling its weight in her palm. She slowly stroked her fingers over the barrel before wrapping her hands around it in a caress and assuming a shooting stance. She closed her eyes and Marshall bent over, hands on his knees, trying to get his body back in line. When she started stroking the barrel of his gun, he thought he was going to go over the edge. _My God, the things she does to me._

He looked up at her from his doubled over position. She had moved in front of him and was taking aim at an imaginary target. Marshall's eyes swept over her long legs and the curve of her ass. He straightened up. She was actually filling out her jeans again very nicely. He gave her a critical look. He would guess that her weight was about back to her ideal.

"Feel good?" he asked, watching the joyful expression on her face.

"You have no idea," she murmured absently, totally focused on the feel of the gun in her hands, the curve of the handle as it fit into her palm.

His silence penetrated her awareness and she glanced back at him.

She flushed with a quick flare of guilt. "Oh Marshall, I'm sorry. You were off for three weeks when you got shot. You do have an idea."

He crossed behind her . "Yes, I do," he said in a soft voice as he brought his arms around so he could wrap his hands on hers holding the gun. He nudged her right leg out a little further, correcting her stance, and brought her arms up slightly higher. "You are going to need some serious time on the range before you can requalify. It's the little things that get away from you without practice."

Mary's heart was doing bizarre hammering things and she almost went into cardiac arrest when Marshall brought one hand up and brushed her hair back, his fingers lingering on her neck. Those same fingers traveled along her jaw and under her chin, where he lifted slightly. "You'll be able to sight better if you keep you chin lifted a bit more." The words were spoken in her ear.

His body was in contact with hers from shoulders to hips. She started to sink back into him and caught herself. _What the hell? I don't need tips on how to shoot. I'm a U.S. Marshal! I know how to shoot, how to stand, how to hold my gun._ And yet, said that little voice in her head, you haven't moved away from him, out of the circle of his arms.

Marshall's long arms were reaching forward, gently releasing her death grip on the gun and taking it from her. He turned her around to face him as he holstered his weapon. Pulling her forward in an easy embrace, he spoke in a low voice.

"It will come back to you in no time. And I'll be here to help, you know, with your posture and such." His hand skimmed down ever so lightly over her side, and came to rest on her hip. Mary had a flash of Marshall helping her get the right stance. His hands on her shoulders, his hands on her arms, his hands on her hips. She pulled back to look at his face and found a self-satisfied smirk there. He was teasing.

_Good Lord, I think he's flirting with me._

* * *

_***_Post-hospital Week Ten***

Eleanor walked briskly into the office and said good morning to Marshall. He nodded distractedly. The morning tension was becoming a staple until Mary arrived. It was her first week that she was allowed to drive and Marshall was acting like the parent of a sixteen year old that just got her license. He wouldn't relax until Mary walked into the office.

Eleanor was glad to have Mary back. The banter between them was gradually returning, and the zingers Mary and Marshall traded were a joy to hear. Eleanor had given in on Mary's first day back and gotten her a cup of coffee, a fact Mary would never let her forget or cease trying to repeat. She shook her head as she thought about how different the office had felt during those weeks that Mary was out. Stan had been angry and belligerent, short with everyone, the worry evident on his face. Marshall was a shell of his former self, barely responsive, guilt and grief warring for supremacy, his feelings laid bare for all to see. Even once it became clear Mary would recover, it wasn't the same without her. Her life force animated the whole office.

There had been talk of bringing in a temporary marshal to help out with Mary's witnesses. Marshall had not responded well, no matter how many times Stan told him it wouldn't be a replacement for her. Stan had ended up shouldering some of her load himself. He was already down his best inspector. He didn't want to antagonize his second best.

Eleanor had been closely observing the two partners since Mary came back to duty. There were subtle changes. Some were due to Mary's trauma. She wasn't quite as in your face as before. But something had changed between them, or more accurately, was changing. Eleanor had often caught Marshall gazing at Mary, but she had seen Mary looking at Marshall three different times just this week, with such a look on her face. It was soft, tender almost. She smiled. He was getting under her skin.

She shook her head sadly. Life was too short to waste years of it denying one's feelings for another. _What I wouldn't give for another year with my John. _These two could make each other happy. Why it should scare Mary so much to admit she loved Marshall was a complete mystery to her. She didn't believe for one minute that the engagement to Raphael would end at the altar. Marshall, on the other hand, was an open book; little short of carrying a placard around his neck with an arrow and the phrase 'I love her'. Poor, sweet Marshall. Eleanor hoped he would grow a set and take a stand before the engagement was allowed to progress to wedding planning.

A smile played around her lips as she recalled a small scene she had witnessed at the hospital, before either of them realized she was standing in the doorway. It had been about two weeks after Mary woke up and some of the dreadful tension in Marshall had started to ease. Mary had been sitting up in the chair in the room and Marshall was perched on the side of the bed. The dinner tray was in front of her and she was finishing what had obviously been a severely disappointing meal. She had picked at most of it and finally reached for the small bowl of pudding, the only thing that seemed palatable.

Glancing up, Mary had stilled and asked Marshall in a soft voice if he had eaten yet. He had absently shaken his head and Mary had held out the pudding to him. Urged him to take it, insisted she could get another. He must have been very hungry, as he reached out to accept the offering. Coming from Mary, this was huge. Her fingers brushed against his and lingered a moment before dropping back into her lap.

Mary breezed into the office and Marshall visibly relaxed. She shot him a narrow look, defying him to make any kind of comment. Mary hated hovering and Marshall seemed to be incapable of stopping himself.

"Hey Eleanor, how about a cup of coffee?" she asked, heading towards her desk.

"Love one, thanks."


	6. Chapter 6 Accepting

Chapter Six - Accepting

**Post hospital Week Eleven**

Mary pulled out the card key she had swiped from Marshall's hotel room. She was dressed in an old pair of sweats. Not attractive, but she still was a bit swollen from her surgery and they were comfortable. She let herself into Marshall's room and called out to him. His head appeared around the open bathroom door.

It was their first road trip since Mary's return to work and she was reverting to her usual shenanigans. She was almost back to normal. The energy levels were a bit shy of usual and there was a new tendency to tear up unexpectedly. Marshall knew that bothered her, and he had been careful to back off when he would see her eyes fill.

"Don't you ever knock?" he asked, a touch of irritation in his tone.

"Why would I go to the bother of taking your extra room key if I were going to do that?" She flopped onto his bed. Marshall returned to brushing his teeth and Mary glanced around the room, taking in his neatly folded clothes on the chair, and his pajamas laid out on the bed. She looked again at his jeans on the chair, with his belt lying on top. A slow smile spread across her face. Oh, this was going to be good.

Marshall eventually emerged, clad in his boxers and a t-shirt. He had debated what to do but really, what choice did he have? Ask Mary to toss his pj's in while he cowered behind the shower curtain? He slowly walked out and stopped in front of her. She had his pajamas in her hand.

"I like these ones," she said, running her fingers over the spaceships. "They suit you somehow." She glanced up at him. "Unlike those boxers," she said with a raised eyebrow, "seriously, bunny rabbits Marshall?" Her gaze traveled down and she was momentarily gobsmacked.

_Wow._ She stared at his thighs, the definition in his calves. Her eyes moved slowly back up his body, taking in his biceps and shoulders. Did Marshall work out? Because she had never seen quite this much of him before and...wow. He wasn't quite the beanpole she had always assumed him to be.

Her muddled brain finally took in the fact that he was standing with his hand outstretched. She frowned, then realized she was holding onto his pjs still. She looked up at his face, perceived the faint stain of red on his cheeks. He was embarrassed. She was making him feel embarrassed. Hurting him unintentionally again. Like always.

Mary was horrified to feel the all too familiar prick of tears behind her eyes. Damn it. Why had she turned into a leaky faucet since her shooting? She sat up abruptly, grimaced as the streak of pain shot through her abdomen, tossed Marshall his pajamas, and tried to make her escape before the full waterfall started flowing. She couldn't bear the thought of hurting this man anymore than she already had.

She had her legs swung over the side of the bed when she felt his gentle grip on her wrist and felt the bed sag as he sat down next to her.

"Talk to me, Mary," he said quietly. He used her name. It was a rare enough occurrence that his voice caressed those two syllables that it caught her attention, and she looked at him. His expression was full of concern and tinged with puzzlement. He didn't understand what was happening.

Looking into his clear blue eyes, Mary felt such a rush of tenderness for him it almost knocked her over. Marshall, who would do anything for her. Marshall, who always had her back. Marshall, who put up with her abusive behavior towards him. Marshall, who understood her. Marshall, who cared about her. The tears were trickling down her cheeks now, unchecked. She stared at him, blinded by a realization that left her gasping for breath.

"Oh, God," she tried to pull away. "This can not be happening." Marshall loosened his grasp slightly, but did not let go. Mary bent over and held her head in her hands. "No, no, no." She looked down at his bare leg next to hers. One calm corner of her mind took note of the fact that his knees weren't knobby. She had thought they would be. They were smooth, sturdy, like the man himself.

His hand dropped from her wrist and began stroking her back, his fingers running through her hair. "Tell me what's wrong, Mary."

He was beginning to feel agitated. Something was obviously wrong. "Mary please, you can tell me. You can tell me anything."

Yes, she thought as the new found knowledge whirled through her mind. I can trust Marshall. I can trust him with anything, I can tell him anything. She spoke to her toes.

"I...I think...you...we...I'm afraid I...oh God, Marshall..." she flailed helplessly. "I'm in love with two men." It broke out of her in a wail. She was wringing her hands, like a cliche from the movies.

Time slowed down for Marshall as the anguished words sunk in. A surge of elation at the words, followed by pain at the obvious distress it was causing her. He tried to regulate his breathing. His hand stilled on her back.

"Is one of the men me?" he asked, hating the breathy, pleading quality to his voice. Mary stiffened, then miserably nodded her head.

"Of course one of them is you, numbnuts. Who else would it be? I love both you and Raph. Oh God, what am I going to do?" Raph was sweet, trusting, loving, and damn he was hot. But Marshall...he was understanding, he got her. Marshall was smart, funny, dependable, loyal. Marshall could put up with her; he knew when to back off. He had an instinctive understanding of her. Marshall could shoot with a gun in each hand; he could take down a 300 pound man. Mary groaned. Wasn't there a way she could combine the two of them, make the perfect guy?

Marshall brushed his fingers against hers, before clasping her hand in his. "Tell me what you need."

Mary squeezed her eyes shut. How many times had he said that to her? How many times? And she never understood until now, that he was saying 'I love you'.

She looked at him, green eyes cloudy with confusion. "I need you to tell me what to do," she whispered. Marshall stared at her, then chuckled as he cupped her cheek.

"And just when have you ever listened to me?" he asked, gently wiping at the tears on her face. He took her face in his hands and searched her eyes. "I have loved you for a very long time. And I'm willing to wait for you. But I will not share you. You have to choose." At Mary's alarmed expression, he smiled sadly.

"I will always be your partner Mary. I would like to be more. But I will not share you for the 'more'. If you want to make a life with Raph, do so. Our friendship, our partnership will still be there. But if you want to make a life with me..." His words trailed off and he sighed, leaned over to kiss her cheek.

"I think you need to go back to your room now." He dropped his hands back into his lap and shifted away from her.

"Why?" she asked stubbornly. She really didn't want to go back, to be alone with her thoughts.

"Because I'm a guy and seriously, Mary, there is only so much self control I have. Uncle Sam is paying for that room next door. You need to use it."

Mary reluctantly stood up and moved towards the door, the warmth of Marshall's touch still on her face.

_Damn, Shelly is going to have a fucking field day with this._

* * *

***Post – hospital Week Twelve***

Mary sat fidgeting in Shelly's office. God, she hated these sessions. Shelly now knew more about her than she knew about herself. She'd been forced to lay herself bare. Her feelings about every person in her life explored and dissected. Uncomfortable conclusions were drawn about several of those people.

Weekly follow-up sessions were required to keep her clearance to work, until such time as Shelly deemed them unnecessary. Shelly seemed determined to return week after week to the subject of Raph and Marshall. Sitting on the soft couch, pulling at a loose thread on the cushion, Mary suddenly looked up and stared at Shelly. Gentle brown eyes looked steadily back at her.

_There it is. She's got it. It's just clicked in, what I need from her._ It had been a long journey for Mary, to get her to arrive at this point. Shelly leaned forward.

"You know what I need to hear," she said quietly, "what you need to hear for yourself."

"You're going to make me say it?" Mary looked bewildered. Why was she doing this to her? Shelly nodded, her brown locks swaying around her face. She observed Mary's face harden and her chin jut out in defiance.

"Please remember that in this room, I am God. I can pull your clearance to carry your weapon, to be at work. And if you want to be sprung from these weekly meetings, you need to admit it." Mary stared at her, then bent over with her head in her hands. She rubbed her temples and took a deep breath.

"I love him," she said reluctantly, "I love Marshall." Damn it. There were the tears again, threatening to spill over. "Are you happy now?"

Shelly glanced down and said softly, "I am not doing this to make you miserable or to hold some kind of power over you. You need to be in touch with your own feelings and be aware of how they impact you on the job. You are in love with your partner. This is not necessarily a bad thing, but you need to understand how it impacts the two of you and how you perform your jobs. Have you told him?" That would be a huge step for Mary, to admit this to him.

Mary made an impatient gesture with her hand and flopped her head back on the couch. "I may have mentioned something during an emotional rant, during which I dumped on him and noticed his knees weren't knobby." Shelly's eyebrow rose, but she let the knobby knee comment go.

"And how did he respond?" Mary was silent several moments, before opening her eyes and focusing on the bookshelf behind Shelly's desk.

"He loves me too. But I also love Raph. I'm engaged to Raph for Christ's sake. Marshall said I had to choose. He'd always be my partner and my friend, but he wouldn't share me with Raph." Shelly allowed herself a small smile. She knew it. She had seen clearly how strong Marshall's feelings were from the first time she had met the two of them.

"And have you discussed this with Raph?" Mary groaned. "I'll take that as a no. Do you know what you want Mary? Obviously there are difficult decisions to be made."

Mary stared up at the ceiling, noting a small water stain in the corner above the bookshelf. What did she want? She wanted to be happy. The two men in her life – which one made her happy? Impossible question to answer. Each man had qualities she appreciated, qualities she craved. How could she choose? She was heartsick at the thought of hurting either one of them. And one of them would be hurt. But Marshall was right; she had to choose.

"How can I choose?" The question was directed to the ceiling.

Shelly paused a moment before offering an answer. "You need to decide what is it you want from a relationship, what are the most important qualities you need from the other person. What do you need to be able to commit to a lifetime with another person? Sometimes love isn't enough. There are practical considerations too. What qualities will make your life together miserable? What are your arguments about? What do you argue about over and over? Is there an important issue that you can't agree on, can't meet in the middle on?"

Mary shuddered. _Oh God, oh God, oh God. All those arguments with Raph over my job. S_helly's voice kept droning on.

"Which one would it hurt you more to live without?"

Mary sat up and looked Shelly in the eye. "I think I hate you," she said, her voice spent and weary. "You knew the answer to that question before I did."

Shelly didn't deny it, just waited patiently for Mary to answer the question.

"It's Marshall," she whispered. "Marshall I can't live without." She angrily swiped at the tears glistening in her eyes.

Shelly heaved an internal sigh of relief. Finally. She was beginning to fear that Mary would never admit her feelings.

"Good. I'm proud of you Mary. I know this has been extremely difficult for you. But now that you know what your feelings are, you can move forward. If you are not going to marry Raph you need to break the engagement. It's only fair to him. Take some time for yourself before rushing into anything with Marshall. Explain that to him. He's a patient guy. He'll wait." Shelly scribbled on a form and handed it to Mary.

"What's this?" Mary scanned it suspiciously, then looked up in surprise. "I'm done? I don't have to come back?"

Shelly smiled at the look of tremulous hope on Mary's face.

"I need to know if you start feeling overwhelmed. Call me if you just want to talk. But we are done with our weekly sessions. Barring any new incidents, I won't need to see you again for six months."

Mary grinned and stood up, holding out her hand to Shelly. The psychologist chuckled as she heard Mary whoop in exultation, waving the piece pf paper in Marshall's face as she greeted him in the waiting room.


	7. Chapter 7 Changing

*****Well, this is it folks. Sneaking the final chapter in before the premiere. Thanks to all who read and enjoyed this story. I appreciate your kinds words. Special thanks to Bujyo for her suggestions and encouragement.*****

**Chapter Seven -**

***Post-hospital Week Thirteen***

Mary crashed out on Marshall's couch. She had spent a lot of time at his house the last few days. Her own home had a few too many uncomfortable memories right now. She reached over for her beer she had set on the coffee table. Settling back into the thick cushions of the sofa and propping her feet up on the table, she considered the question Marshall had just posed to her.

_Am I ok? I don't know. _Taking a swig of beer, she glanced sideways at him. His steady blue eyes were fastened on her face. She shook her head.

"No, I'm not ok." How to explain the maelstrom of feelings swirling inside her? Mary carefully considered her words and tentatively tried to explain. "I've hurt a man I love. I've broken a pledge I made, a promise to marry him." She subconsciously rubbed at her empty ring finger. "Raph deserved better than I gave him. But we were at an impasse, Marshall." The words of their last argument played like a summer repeat in her mind.

"_Mary, you need to quit. I can't stand to have you risking your life every day! I can not go through another episode where you get shot! What about when we start a family? You can not keep doing this job. Our children will need their mother at home."_

_She had retrieved her ring from her bedside table and handed it to him with trembling fingers. _

"_I'm sorry, Raph. I can't marry you. This argument we keep having, it will never end. I will never quit and you will never stop asking me to quit. The things we want from life are different. You need a woman who can give you a family of your own. I need a man who can accept my job and let me do it without a guilt trip every day. Raph, we've never even talked about kids. I don't know if I want them." At the stunned look on his face, she took his hand and brought it up to her cheek._

"_Raph, the most important quality I need in someone is acceptance of who I am. I know you love me, but you can't accept the person I am, which is a U.S. Marshal. I have a dangerous job, yes, but it's an important one. What I do, it matters. I am never going to stop doing it." She bowed her head and whispered, "Please forgive me. I know I'm hurting you. I love you, but I can't marry you."_

Marshall watched her as the memories played through her mind and he casually reached over to take her hand. He let their clasped hands rest on his thigh, his thumb rubbing slow circles on her hand.

"You'd never want me to quit, would you Marshall?" she asked suddenly. He turned his head in surprise.

"If you quit, I'd have to break in a new partner. Why would I want to do that?" He ducked the light punch she threw his way, then caught her hand and brought it up to his lips to kiss.

"No," he said seriously, "I would never ask you to quit. I would never ask you to give up something you love."

Mary felt a faint blush creep up her face as she haltingly asked, "What if there were kids? Would you want me to quit if we, you know..." her voice trailed away. She felt incredibly self-conscious. Marshall leaned towards her and lifted her chin up so he could look in her eyes.

"I would be absolutely thrilled if there were kids, but I would not ask you to stop being who you are just because you became a mother. I wouldn't want you to ask me to stop being who I am."

She smiled faintly and whispered, almost to herself, "A lawman through and through."

A memory popped into her head from the hospital. She had been sleeping and she awoke to a conversation Marshall was having with one of the nurses. The nurse had been asking how he could keep doing such a dangerous job, especially seeing how badly his partner had been hurt. Marshall had smiled, the lovely soft smile, not the goofy grin, and had answered with a chuckle.

"It's in my blood. This is what I was born to do. I can't imagine doing anything different. And I can't imagine having anyone different by my side than the woman in this bed. We're in a symbiotic relationship. We feed off each other and couldn't exist without the other."

"Two halves of the whole?" The nurse had looked at him speculatively. He had nodded agreement.

Mary brought her attention back to the man next to her and drew a shaky breath. "And who am I, Marshall? To you?" She waited in trepidation for his answer.

He smiled at her fondly, noticing the fear in her sea green eyes. His large palm caressed her cheek. "You're Mary Shannon. United States Marshal. Partner. Best friend. Lover...I hope one day. You are the most important person in my life. You give definition to the word compassion. You invigorate my world just by your presence. You make me be a better marshal by your unconventional methods. You make me be a better person by showing me your flaws and how you cope with them. My life is better because of you. And I want to share my life with you, but under terms we can both live with. When you're ready, we can talk about that. For now, I just want to spend time with you, because you make me happy, Sunshine."

Mary felt a squishy feeling inside that she thought might be pure happiness. She nodded, leaned over to place a soft kiss on his lips and watched those marvelous blue eyes light up.

"That's something I can give you."

* * *

***Post-hospital Six Months***

Peter stood in Mary's backyard manning the grill. He surveyed the small group of people seated by the pool; Mary, Marshall, Brandi and Jinx. Man, what a difference from a few months ago. There was a pervasive sense of calm, of peace that radiated outward; due mostly to the subtle change in Mary. Peter leaned back against the small table by the grill and watched her. Since breaking off her engagement with Raph, she was like a modified version of herself. Directly attributable to the man beside her, he thought.

Peter shook his head and smiled. While nothing had been verbalized from either one of them, it was clear to everyone that Mary and Marshall were now a couple. Mary was so much happier and more relaxed, she was actually pleasant to be around sometimes. Marshall's daily appearances were no longer commented upon. He smoothly fit into the ebb and flow of life in the Shannon household. They obviously loved each other, and while they may not have seen fit to share that with others yet, it was clear they had shared it with each other.

Mary had finally followed his advice. She was making Jinx and Brandi stand on their own two feet. Jinx would shortly be moving back to New Jersey and would stay with her sister until she could get set up in her own place. Brandi had gotten a part-time job and was getting an apartment with a classmate from school.

Peter's eye traveled over to Brandi, engaged in conversation with Marshall. He was thinking of offering her another option. He wasn't sure yet, but the relationship seemed be be heading down that path. She made him happy, and she seriously didn't seem to be motivated by his money.

Brandi told him several months ago about her suspicions regarding Marshall and Mary. He had agreed with her observations, but urged her to stay on the sidelines. This was something the two partners needed to explore without outside interference. Brandi had since become friends with Marshall. Peter felt Marshall exerted a good influence on her; she seemed more grounded, not quite as flighty as she used to be.

His gaze returned to Mary. Mary was cleaning house. In preparation for something, Peter surmised. In preparation for Marshall. He wondered briefly if Mary realized that was what she was doing. He saw her reach over and casually lace her fingers together with her partner's. Maybe she did realize.

Peter had engaged in a long conversation with Marshall the second night after Mary's shooting. The haggard man was so defenseless against the assault of his own emotions that Peter thought he was going to completely break down. Marshall had revealed everything to him about his feelings for Mary...how he was hopelessly in love with her, how it pained him to see her making the wrong choice with Raph, how scared he was he would lose his best friend. Peter mainly listened, acted as a safe release valve for him. He barely knew the man. He guessed that made him safer to confide in. Once the words started pouring out of Marshall's mouth, there was no stopping them. Peter tried to point out a few methods of focusing on the concrete things that he could do, instead of allowing fear and guilt to paralyze him. He didn't know if Marshall actually took in his words, but he seemed to be grateful for the effort.

Peter felt bad for Raph. The poor guy was moping around at work. He was in pain, but Peter could easily see how much better Marshall fit Mary than Raph ever had. There was an understanding between them that was simply missing with Raph. An understanding of the needs of the other, acceptance of the things that couldn't be changed, respect for the way each functioned.

Yes, change was coming. Mary hated change, but Peter felt this was one time she was going to be happy to accept it. His smile widened into a grin. He had seen the ring. It sat in Marshall's glove compartment next to the man's sunglasses. Marshall probably didn't think about that when he asked Peter to retrieve the shades the other day. Yes, this time, he thought, she would be happy to wear a man's ring.

***The End***


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